


Lucky Crow

by The_Jashinist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 23:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jashinist/pseuds/The_Jashinist
Summary: A morning with two notorious trainwrecks.





	Lucky Crow

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I don't know how to write a British accent of any type.

Constantine inhaled sharply as a cool hand slid across his chest and up his neck.  He opened his eyes and glanced over at the owner, still half-asleep and stretching out his legs as he leaned forwards to greet the man beside him.  Jonathan Crane seldom slept, but it was always obvious when he had.

“You were drinkin last night,” Jonathan remarked, his lips brushing against Constantine’s cheek.  He always was good at smelling the whiskey that hadn’t made it into a drunk man’s mouth. Jonathan let out a laugh and quickly kissed Constantine on the cheek before climbing over him to retrieve his glasses, sitting on top of Constantine to properly put them on.

“And sitting on me definitely helps that cause,” Constantine teased.

“I think you’ll live,” Jonathan retorted, running his hands through his hair and pulling through snags that caught in the thick black curls, “did you go with anyone or was it alone?”

“Alone,” Constantine replied, “I’m a right bastard Jon.  Nobody likes me.”

“I like you, John,” Jonathan cracked a smile and leaned forwards, “in spite of all that bad luck I’ve yet to see.”

Constantine felt the slight smile on his face fade, but for once, Jonathan didn’t notice the subtle shift, quickly kissing Constantine’s forehead, hopping off the bed, and striding out of the room.  Constantine sat up and stared at the doorway, waiting for Jonathan to return. Each time they were in a different room, a different building, even just out of sight for a moment, John Constantine felt that worry again.

He’d stayed away from people he loved, and he’d kept them as close as possible.  It had never done anything worthwhile. It had never protected them from what always awaited every person he’d ever cared for.

Jonathan was, as of a few months ago, the newest in a long line of what Constantine was comfortable calling his most tragic victims: the ones that cared for him.  He’d been lucky so far. Things had been unusually quiet, and Jonathan seemed to revel in teasing Constantine each time a shred of worry crept into his mind. Not that Jonathan didn’t know about all of it.  He knew everything, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t even scared, kept reasoning that if everyone Constantine loved was doomed to suffer, then his suffering was behind him.

If only it were only suffering in Jonathan’s future, Constantine wished it was only suffering.

“Back,” Jonathan slid in, carrying a mug in each hand, “still don’t know how you put milk in tea.”

“I don’t know how you drink cold tea,” Constantine retorted, “it’s an affront to good English tea and you know it.”

“The English didn’t invent tea,” Jonathan pointed out, “so you ain’t got no business actin like sweet tea is an affront to anythin.  Unless it’s bad sweet tea, then you can condemn away darlin.”

Constantine accepted the mug of tea from Jonathan and gave a brief glance at the other one in his hand.  Whatever was in it was strong smelling.

“What the bloody hell are you drinking?” he asked.

“It’s called Valhalla Java,” Jonathan replied, “it’s the same brand as my usual stuff, just a different blend.”

“So, it’s murder in a cup,” Constantine translated, “and you’re drinking it, black.”

“I ain’t got time for sugar,” Jonathan waved off the comment, sitting next to Constantine, “besides I’m sweet enough already.”

“Cheeky little shit,” Constantine grinned.

A silence stretched out, punctuated by the passing of cars outside the apartment window.  Jonathan’s cheerful mood had even faded. Something was wrong, Constantine could tell.

“What is it?” he asked after half the coffee was gone and the silence had become unbearable.

“Nothin,” Jonathan shook his head, a small smile on his face, “You’re worried again, that’s all.”

“I’m waiting,” Constantine replied.

“And I told you, nothin’s gonna to happen,” Jonathan promised, leaning on Constantine, “The curse makes your loved ones suffer, and I’ve already suffered quite a bit.”

“The curse kills people,” Constantine argued, “and I want to think you’ll be different, but I’ve wanted that the last ten or so times.  No one’s ever that lucky.”

Jonathan placed his coffee cup on the bedside table and yanked Constantine’s cup from him before pinning him to the bed.  For someone thin as a rail, he had a strong grip.

“Listen to me John Constantine,” he said firmly, “I knew what I was gettin into when I got in bed with you for the first time.  I know what hole I’m diggin myself into and I love you regardless. I love you, John. If you know for certain this won’t end well, you should spend that time cherishin the happiness life is letting you have now, not waitin for the tragic end on baited breath.  You’re just gonna to make the inevitable crash worse. Don’t do that to yourself.”

Constantine sighed and raised a hand to place on Jonathan’s cheek, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And I don’t want to lose you,” Jonathan released Constantine and let him sit up, “but you shouldn’t think about that possibility just because I walked out to make coffee.”

Constantine nodded slowly and lowered his hand to Jonathan’s shoulder.

“You want to head over to the library today?” he asked, making Jonathan light up.

“Are we gonna to that one café afterwards?” he asked.

“Are you going to eat?” Constantine smirked.

“Only if we can split a bear claw.”

Constantine rolled his eyes, “I meant real food.”

“So did I.  The bear claw’s in addition to the food.”

Constantine rolled his eyes and nodded, “Fine, go get dressed.”

“Dressed?  Not yet, shower first. I was workin last night, and they won’t let us in if you smell like that.”

“I like smelling like whiskey.”

“You smell like SoCo; take a shower.”

“You use all the hot water.”

“I never said we were takin separate showers darlin.”

Jonathan turned to get off the bed when Constantine grabbed him by the waist and pulled him in, leaving a trail of kisses up his neck and making him let out a laugh.

“I love you,” Constantine whispered in Jonathan’s ear, making Jonathan slid closer and kiss Constantine on the lips.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the fluff, take the fluff.


End file.
